All Fall Down
by Drink Sparky Cola
Summary: Continuation of the season 3 finale has Jake and the rest of the Doyles dealing with the fallout from hurricane Sonja and addressing some uncomfortable truths about themselves in the process.
1. Jake

_Finally got around to finishing my first Republic of Doyle fic... after getting hung up on the last couple chapters for far longer than I care to admit. I'm just shocked I get to post this thing before season 4, which can't come soon enough. New chapters will be added as I have the chance to edit them. This fandom is a blast, I can't believe there aren't more fics for this show. Travesty!_

**All Fall Down**

"This is not what was supposed to happen!"

"Well, it did," Jake replied morosely, trying not to take his eyes off the gun that Sonja had trained on him. He would be remiss to admit that he had a plan thought out beyond getting Sonja Sterling's confession, but at least he finally got _something_.

"Well I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, okay?" Sonja said tearfully and for a second—one conflicted second—Jake almost believed she truly was. But he had other concerns on his mind; unbeknownst to the desperate blonde woman, Des had run onto the tarmac, poised to create a distraction for Jake to disarm her. He looked up, waiting for Jake's signal.

"Can you repeat that?" Jake replied brazenly, peeking underneath his jacket. "What's the saying, y'know? Fool me once, fool me twice, or—whatever. I'm wearing two wires," he smirked even as the disgust crept across Sonja's face. Des chose that moment to hit the floodlights, and the split second of preoccupation gave Jake the chance he needed to wrestle the gun away from her. She fought back and the gun went off, the shot going wide, but Jake had it from her in seconds, finally regaining control of the situation. "I should shoot you right now for what you did to my car!" Jake shouted, feeling a bit cocky but mostly just pissed.

They both heard the whimper but Sonja was the only one who could afford to look and Jake knew by the look on her face what had happened. He faltered, lowering the gun, but too wary of the wily murderess before him to risk taking his eyes off her. "Des?" he called out, surprised at how difficult it was to produce the word. "Des, talk to me..." The silence that answered back only confirmed his fears.

Sonja looked back to Jake, her eyes hardening into steel. "What are you gonna do, Jake? Huh? Who do you need more? Him or me?"

"I hate you so much, you psycho," Jake spat, trying to subdue his panic.

"Better choose quick, Doyle. I don't think he has much time." The coldness stayed in her voice as steadily as her eyes stayed on Jake's. The sirens in the distance were growing nearer but still too far away... His brain tried to sort out the consequences of either action but he didn't get far before settling on the only possible conclusion: Des. Of _course_ Des. How could there be any other choice?

Jake lowered the gun once more. "I am going to kill you," he promised. "Mark my words." Then they both turned away, Jake rushing to the fallen kid while Sonja took flight. He was on Des in seconds, pulling him away from the wall he was leaning on and lowering him to the ground carefully, but it wasn't as graceful as he'd've liked. Des was dead weight in his arms and he never had been known for his grace anyway.

"Jake..." he whimpered, looking down at his blood covered hands shakily. "What—"

"Hey, hey," Jake interrupted. "You're okay. You're alright now, c'mon."

"Sh-she shot me—" The disbelief was plain in his eyes. Jake heard the sirens and wondered if they'd know where to find them. He started to stand but Des's bloodstained fingers tugged on his leather jacket feebly. "Please don't go—Jake, _please_." The P.I. looked down into the kid's fear-steeped eyes. "You—you said you'd never let me die alone."

Jake blinked. He honestly didn't know where to begin protesting that one. "Des, you're—Don't _say_ that!" he spluttered. "You're not gonna die alright? Hey—are you listening to me? Desmond Courtney—" Jake reached out and tapped the kid's cheek like he usually did to get his attention and wagged a finger at him. "You are NOT going to die," he ordered. Des nodded, trying his damnedest to focus but he didn't look entirely convinced. "I just—I gotta make sure the police can find us. That's all. I'll be back _instantaneously_, I promise." Jake jumped to his feet. "Don't go anywhere."

"Okay."

His legs felt like jelly as Jake ran around to the front of the small airport. He saw the two cop cars pull into the lot and waved both arms to flag them down. They were meant to be his backup, sent out to help him nab Sonja, but they hadn't arrived in time and Jake had been forced to step in before Sonja boarded her private plane—the _plane_! Jake chanced a look over his shoulder and was grateful to see that the aircraft was still there waiting, meaning that Sonja was still confined to St. John's. So that was something.

Filing this information under 'Things to be dealt with later', Jake confronted the officers who rushed from their vehicles, guns drawn. "She's gone," he supplied quickly. "She's escaped again, but never mind that—you need to call an ambulance."

Sgt. Hood was in the second vehicle that pulled up. He looked Jake up and down. "Are you hurt?" the bald man asked.

"It's not for me you friggin arse!" Jake shouted. "Des—he was shot. It's bad. Just—call them!" Hood cursed as he whipped out his phone and Jake was already running back to the tarmac, two uniformed officers on his heels. Apologizing to Hood would have to be another thing on that 'deal with it later' list, Jake thought fleetingly as he skittered to a halt next to the dazed bleeding boy and held him steadily. The officers assessed the situation, trying to hold Des's attention but it was obvious the kid was fading fast.

"Ambulance is on its way. Five minutes out," Hood told Jake as he appeared in front of them suddenly. "Which way did Sterling go?"

Jake looked around wildly and bit his lip. "She—I think—honestly, I have no idea," he shook his head, defeated. "I wasn't exactly paying attention."

Hood nodded slowly then gestured to the two uniforms to go search the area. He shrugged out of his light jacket and handed it to Jake to press against the wound and stop the uncontrollable bleeding. "I also called Leslie. She's on her way."

_Leslie_, Jake thought, unable to process his thoughts about her when his mind suddenly jumped to Mal and Rose. They were still in jail. They didn't know... He would have to tell them. And Tinny... Oh God, _Tinny_. How in the hell was he going to do _that_? Unconsciously Jake pressed down harder and Des cried out in painful protest. "Sorry," Jake said softly, squeezing Des's shoulder. "I gotta tell ya, kid, you are just about the unluckiest sonofabitch I ever laid eyes on, y'know? Only you could manage to take a bullet accidentally."

"M'sorry," Des mumbled. "It's my fault... Sonja got away."

"No, no no no, hey, don't worry about that," Jake reassured him. "That is _not_ your fault. This? This is... 100% _my_ fault." And it really was; the realization hit Jake like a punch to the gut. None of this would have happened if he'd let the police help him. If he hadn't tried to fix everything on his own, like he always did. Maybe Leslie was right...

"But Mal and Rose—" Des winced as his breath hitched. "You gotta clear their names, Jake."

"You just let me worry about that, alright?" the P.I. replied soothingly as, to his immense relief, the ambulance rounded the corner and screeched to a halt near the spot where, not fifteen minutes earlier, his father's best chance at freedom had once again slipped through his fingers. The sudden helplessness that seized Jake was enough to instinctively tighten his grip on his young friend when the paramedics descended but the sensation of Hood yanking on his leather jacket snapped Jake back to reality and he backed off to let them do their jobs.

He lost sight of Des for a moment amidst the chaos but never once took his eyes off the scene. He didn't know how long he stood like this, just staring dumbfounded when a voice he knew all too well pulled him out of his reverie.

"Jake? Jake, are y' alright?" The petite blonde detective appeared suddenly at his side, standing at a bit of a distance. She gave Jake a once-over with her eyes then reached across the space between them to clasp his hand firmly in her own, as if she needed to feel him to make sure he was okay. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"Me? I'm fine..." Jake began then gestured helplessly at the scene. "Des..."

"How's he doing?" Leslie asked, voice laden with sympathy.

"I don't know, I don't know," Jake sighed, pulling free from Leslie's grasp and running a hand through his hair. "They haven't told me anything yet. I—" Jake was aware of Leslie's scrutinizing gaze on him and it made him uncomfortable, but no one would ever accuse Jake Doyle of controlling his composure around Leslie. She had this inimitable talent of getting him to bare all when it came to emotions; right now it was really frustrating him. "This—this is all my fault," Jake shook his head. "It was an accident but it never should have happened."

Leslie looked at him sincerely and bit her lip, like she wanted to say something but was holding back. He knew she was thinking '_Didn't I tell you so?'_ but why she was holding back he couldn't tell. Leslie had certainly never shown any restraint in that area in the past.

There was activity with the paramedics; they were moving Des into the ambulance. Jake sprang forward, alongside the stretcher in an instant. "Are you riding with us?" one of the medics asked him.

Jake hesitated, thinking of Sonja on the lam and Mal and Rose in lockup, but Leslie filled in the blanks for him. "Yes, he's going."

"I can't—I have to track down Sonja. I got this—" he yanked the second wire he'd brought along out from beneath his jacket. He'd almost forgotten about it until just then. "It's... sort of a confession, but I think it might be enough to help dad and Rose for now."

"_Go_, Jake. I'll handle that," Leslie said, taking the recording device. "I'll see what's on here and maybe I can pull some strings. You have to be with your family."

Jake climbed into the back of the ambulance, looking back to meet Leslie's gaze before the doors swung shut. 'Thank you,' he mouthed and watched until Leslie and the airport vanished from sight as the sirens alternately wailed to life.

tbc


	2. Tinny

"I can't believe you!" Tinny shouted from the next room, and Kathleen cringed as something else was thrown around a bit too roughly. "Kevin Crocker?! Kevin-My-_Kidnapper_-For-A-Day-CROCKER is my dad? What the Hell, mom?!"

"Tinny, please!" Kathleen tried to soothe her daughter but it only seemed to enrage the 17-year-old more. She could protest all she wanted, but any which way you wrote it, Tinny Doyle was her mother's child. Kathleen would laugh if she weren't currently the direct object of her daughter's rage.

"Do you even know what we all went through with that creep? What he put us _all_ through? UGH!" Tinny clutched at her scalp, trying to comprehend what her mother had told her but it didn't seem to be getting through.

"I know, Tinny. I _know_... I should have been here," Kathleen said mournfully. "I wasn't. But I came back as soon as I heard about that whole thing. I wanted to tell you right away, but—"

"But first you had to deal with a dozen other creeps you brought back with you?" Tinny accused, voice going higher the more outraged she felt.

"C'mon now, that's not fair..."

"No, what's not _fair_ is that the first time I met my dad he threw me in the back of a van and threatened to kill me! It's not _fair_ that to see him again I have to take a trip up to a maximum security prison! And he—he doesn't even know, does he?!"

Kathleen hesitated. "No... If he did, I'm sure he never would have—"

"Unbelievable!" Tinny interrupted, throwing up her arms in disgust. "Real classy, mom. All of it. I mean that."

"Please, Tinny, you have to understand. He wasn't always like that. When we... got together... it was a long time ago. Before that mess with uncle Jake. Before they were partners, even. We were young, practically kids, and there was never any indication he would turn into the man that you met last summer."

Tinny had so many more questions running through her head, all fighting to be acknowledged over the compulsion to lash out some more. All this on top of the business with her grandpa and Rose was turning this into one hell of a day. "You should have told me sooner!" she shrieked accusingly.

Kathleen opened her mouth to respond but they were interrupted when the door banged open and Christian ran into the room, looking breathless. "What is going on here?" he asked. "What's with all the shouting?"

"Nothing, just having an argument about girl stuff," Tinny said, crossing her arms. Christian nodded slowly, make eye contact with Tinny before looking away quickly. "Did you hear us all the way from the bar?" she asked.

"Uh, no, just now, on my way up..." Christian looked at Tinny again, noticeably uncomfortable. "Don't you two have your cellphones on?"

Tinny looked around for hers, realizing she must have left it in her bedroom charging. "No, I've been a little preoccupied... Uncle Christian, what's going on?" Tinny asked warily. "Did something happen with Poppy and Rose?" Like she needed something else to go wrong with today...

"No, they're still in lockup. Jake went after Sonja. I just got a call from him at the hospital—" At the wide-eyed expressions on both Tinny and Kathleen's faces, Christian knew he'd best get to the point. "He's fine. It's your little friend, Des... he's been shot, I'm afraid."

Tinny felt dizzy all of the sudden, like all the air went out of her. She held onto the back of the kitchen chair to make sure she didn't fall down. Dazedly, she asked, "Is he—is—" She couldn't seem to force the words out of her; thankfully, Christian didn't allow her to finish.

"He's still alive. That's all I know. I didn't really get the details out of him. I'm just here to make sure you knew. Jake says he's been calling you for the past thirty minutes and neither of you were answering. He was starting to get worried."

"Tinny, honey, why don't you go get your coat? I'll take you over there right now," Kathleen said, starting to move towards her shell-shocked daughter but the teenager backed away before she could reach out.

"No," she said coldly. "No. I don't want you _anywhere_ near me right now. I can't take this right now. Please, just—just leave me alone for awhile."

Kathleen looked stricken, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but she complied, nodding slowly. "Okay," she managed to form the word. "That's alright."

Her brother looked thoroughly confused, but decided it was not the best time to interfere with mother-daughter politics. Tinny was volatile, and clearly needed to be somewhere else right now. "I'll take her," Christian offered as the girl passed by him to snatch her jacket off the armchair. "Why don't you head down to the station and see if you can pick up dad and Rose? Jake said they might be releasing them on bail if his evidence holds up." Kathleen just nodded, unable to say anything more as her daughter and brother headed out the door, bound for the hospital. Tinny wouldn't even look at her much less say goodbye.

RDRDRDRDRD

After the phone call to Christian, Jake was at a loss about his next move. Once Tinny and Kathleen got the news, there was no one else to call, really. Malachy and Rose were indisposed and Leslie already knew... Jake found himself staring at his phone as he sank into an uncomfortable plastic chair in the hallway outside the trauma room they had taken Des into. He hadn't been allowed in and so the waiting game began.

"Someone told me you were down here." Jake looked up, surprised to see Nikki looking back down at him pityingly. "Despite myself I dropped everything I was doing and came running, just to see if you were okay. Then I heard it was that kid that follows you around again. Oh Jake," she sighed, tilting her head ever so slightly. "What on earth did you get that kid into this time?"

Jake blinked, at a loss for words. "I—look, Nikki, now is really not the time."

Nikki's expression changed when she realized that her words had actually hit home. Perhaps she hadn't meant them that way but they'd wounded all the same. "Uh," she straightened up, jerking a thumb in the direction of the closed double doors. "I can go check on him, if you want. Get you an update."

"That would be very much appreciated," Jake replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nikki hung on a second longer then turned heel and left. It was only a few seconds after she disappeared inside the busy room that Jake spied his brother and niece down the hall, talking to the receptionist. Tinny was starting to lose her patience with the lack of information when Jake interrupted, flagging them down. Without a backwards glance, Tinny ran down the hall to meet him, Christian hot on her heels.

"Uncle Jake!" Tinny gave him a quick hug then looked up at him tearfully. "Where is Des? What _happened_? Are you okay?"

"I'm—uh, I'm fine," Jake said. "There was a—uh, bit of an accident. Des and I went to stop Sonja at the airport. She was trying to escape, and—"

"And she SHOT him?" Tinny asked. "Just like that?"

"Uh, well, not _quite_ like that..." Jake fumbled. "There was a bit of a struggle, and, well," he gestured awkwardly. "Like I said, it was an accident..."

"Is it bad?" Tinny asked, her voice small.

Jake's heart leapt. "Well, it's not good..." Tinny just looked at him impatiently and ran over to the double doors, standing on tiptoe to peek through the small window.

The brothers watched her sadly and Christian clapped a hand on Jake's shoulder. "I'm glad you're still breathing, Buttons," he said sincerely. Jake just nodded.

Moments later, Tinny stepped back as the double doors burst open and the swarm of doctors emerged, pushing Des's stretcher before him. "Des! DES!" Tinny shouted but the kid was out. Jake pulled her out of the way as they made their way to the elevator in a hurry. So they were hurrying, that was a good sign, but Des still looked like a mess, perhaps even worse than before, Jake thought with a grimace.

Jake's ex-wife came out last, peeling off her blood-covered latex gloves as she went. "They're taking him up to surgery now," she told the family. "He's fighting, but Jake—" Nikki cast a look at Tinny and lowered her voice an octave. "He's lost a lot of blood; it's not looking good," she added grimly. "I'm so sorry." With nothing else to say, Nikki turned heel and went back to work, leaving the trio standing apart from each other.

Christian's phone chimed, breaking the silence, and he checked his text message then. "It's Kathleen. She's got dad and Rose; they're on their way over here."

Jake massaged his temples thoroughly. "I—I have to go," he said suddenly. "I gotta get out of here."

"What?" Tinny barked. "Uncle Jake, what are you talking about? Where are you going?"

"I don't know, I just—I gotta be... somewhere else right now, I'm sorry." Jake held up his hands defensively as he brushed past his niece and brother and headed for the exit. "I'm sorry!" he repeated over his shoulder.

"Uncle Jake!" Tinny called after him but he was already gone.

tbc


	3. Rose

Rose Miller had never wanted to be a mom.

When she was little, and all the other girls were playing with dolls, Rose was building forts and playing sports. She'd never been very good with kids. When her friends brought over their screaming, crying brats or shoved their millions of department store wallet photos in her face, it was all Rose could do to pretend like she gave a damn, but she and children had never mixed well.

So how it was that she ended up with _five_ of them was completely beyond Rose's comprehension.

Still, when Leslie came to stop their transfer and told them about how Jake had very probably gotten the evidence that could save them, Rose was proud. When she told them about the confrontation down at the airport, Rose was worried. And when she told them, haltingly, about Des, the extra 'Doyle' kid, the poor, ill-fated little thing, Rose's stomach dropped to her feet.

"Leslie, you had better get us out of here this instant," Rose had told her icily. "I mean it."

"I'm doing all I can, Rose. _I _mean _that_." And so they had waited impatiently for a good half hour before Kathleen had finally shown to post their bail and pick them up, her eyes puffy as if she'd been crying. She'd had nothing to offer on Des's condition so they drove straight to the hospital; Kathleen dropped them off up front.

"Meet you inside, sweetheart," Malachy said, kissing his daughter on the forehead.

"Uh, I don't know if that would be such a good idea," Kathleen said. "Tinny and I were kind of fighting before Jake called us... I don't think she wants to see me right now."

"What are you _talking_ about? I'm sure Tinny'll forgive you for whatever little thing that came between you before."

"I don't know about that," Kathleen said unsteadily.

"Tinny's gonna want her mom with her," Rose told her stepdaughter.

"You're right, she will," Kathleen glanced inadvertently at Rose then looked away. Rose wanted to protest but she wanted to get inside the hospital even more so she brushed the look off, making Kathleen promise to meet them upstairs after parking the car and took off with Malachy. They were directed to the fourth floor waiting room where they found Tinny and Christian, Jake suspiciously absent.

"Tinny!" Malachy called out and the teenager immediately jumped to her feet and ran to her grandfather, throwing her arms around him. Then, to Rose's immense surprise, she threw her arms around Rose, holding on for a surprisingly long time. Rose belatedly returned the embrace for as long as the girl held on, surprised by the vulnerable move from the otherwise fiery brunette.

"Tinny, sweetie, are you doing alright?" she asked.

"They just took him up to surgery," Tinny sniffed, ignoring Rose's inquiry. "They won't tell us anything else but it doesn't sound good."

"Where's your brother?" Malachy asked as Christian joined them.

"He just took off," Tinny interrupted angrily. "He wouldn't say why. I tried to get him to stay but he said he had something to do. What could he possibly have that's more important than being here right now, Poppy?"

"I don't know, sweetie. I'll have to talk to him myself," Malachy answered uncertainly.

"You're not leaving too?" Tinny looked up at her grandpa, doe-eyed.

"No, of course not, Tinny. I'll wait here with you for as long as it takes, I promise." The four Doyles took their seats in the waiting room then, quickly falling into a restless silence that was only occasionally broken. Kathleen never showed but texted Rose to let her know she was nearby if anyone needed her.

Rose sat next to her husband, slipping her hand into his and leaning into him. "I know you're worried about Jake," she spoke confidentially. "You wanna go after him, don't you?"

Malachy shook his head, never taking his eyes off his granddaughter. "There's no place I want to be more than here," he said. "But yes, I am worried about him. I worry about all my kids. Just when I think I won't have to worry about them anymore, they find new ways to keep me on my toes. They're gonna be the death of me, you know."

Rose smiled, rubbing her husband's arm comfortingly. "You're a good father, Malachy. To _all_ your children." She paused for a minute then tightened her grip suddenly. "Oh my God, Malachy. I have to tell Jody what happened. He should know."

Malachy considered. "Maybe wait until we get an update. It'd be cruel to tell the man now, when we know so little."

"You're probably right," Rose nodded, and shook her head disparagingly. She was _not_ looking forward to that inevitable phone call. How impersonal it was to hear that your kid could be dying and you couldn't even get out to see him. It would break Rose's heart to know that one of her kids needed her and she couldn't get to them. _Her_ kids, Rose thought with a pang of realization. When had she started thinking of them that way?

Not much more was spoken for nearly an hour before the doctor finally emerged and headed towards them. The Doyles, all restless but awake, roused from their positions, shaking out their tired limbs as if it would prepare them for whatever news they were about to receive. Tinny was the first to jump to her feet, hands clenched at her sides.

"Are you the family of Desmond?"

"Yes, that's us," Malachy answered swiftly.

"I'm happy to tell you he came through the surgery. There was a lot of damage to one of his kidneys and he lost a lot of blood. He's in a recovery room right now. It's still touch and go but Desmond is young and strong and we're confident he can pull through."

"Can we go see him?" Tinny asked quickly.

"Yes, but we can only allow two visitors at this time, I'm afraid."

Malachy and Rose exchanged a look, but it was already plain which two would be going into the room. "You go ahead," Malachy told his wife and granddaughter. "I'll go find Jake in the mean time, let him know the good news."

"Yeah, assuming he even _cares_," Tinny huffed as she brushed past her grandpa to follow the doctor.

"You guys want anything to eat? I can go get us something, if you'd like," Christian offered. Rose decided to take him up on the offer, realizing that she hadn't eaten nearly all day.

"You watch after our boy now," Malachy told Rose with a quick embrace and a kiss to the top of her head. "And keep me updated."

"You betcha," Rose answered and hurried after Tinny. The recovery room was down the hall and lined on both walls with beds, most of them occupied by unconscious patients. Tinny and Rose were directed to the second to last bed where a pasty-looking Des lay, connected to various machines and still knocked out. Rose noticed the tears springing to Tinny's eyes and how the girl tried to hide them by brushing them away but she wasn't fooling anyone today, and she had never really fooled Rose to begin with. The teenage girl pulled one of the chairs up to the boy's bed, and sat down shakily at his side, reaching for the hand that wasn't pierced by the IV. Rose just stood dutifully at her side as she clasped his hand in both of her own.

"Oh, Rose," Tinny choked, her voice small. "Look at him. Why does all this keep happening to him?"

"Sweetie, he's gonna be alright. He's made it this far, and he's been through a lot these past couple years."

"Not _this_ bad," Tinny said, giving his limp hand a light squeeze. "He's _always_ there for us. He never means any harm, just wants to help... It's not fair."

"I don't know what to tell you, Tinny. Sometimes bad things happen to people who don't deserve it." _What does that even mean?_ Rose asked herself irritably. It sounded so trite out loud and hadn't sounded much better in her head, but she felt obligated to say _something _to the girl. A part of her hoped it sounded more reassuring to Tinny, but the dark-haired teen was smarter than that; there wasn't a chance Tinny would buy any of that 'fate' bullshit.

By the look Tinny gave her when she looked up briefly, Rose knew she had guessed correctly, but Tinny didn't call her out on it. Instead, she surprised the older woman by freeing one hand to reach out and squeeze Rose's. "Thanks for being here," she said sincerely.

Rose was taken aback by the uncharacteristic tenderness, but she tried not to show it, and covered her surprise by tending to Des. She smoothed down his unkempt hair and gave him a light kiss on the forehead before pulling her own chair up next to the bed. "I can't imagine being anywhere else." And she was surprised to realize that she meant it, too. Admitting she needed people had always been a problem for Rose; it had taken years to let Malachy in but ever since she had, that circle of people she trusted was widening every day until it included the whole Doyle clan. Rose never thought she'd want a family until she _had_ one and now she couldn't imagine life without them. The concept of losing the boy in front of her was unthinkable, but it almost happened... Rose shuddered with the thought and had a flash of anger for the woman who'd almost taken it all away. If she could get her hands on Sonja Sterling...

"Are you and Poppy cleared now?" Tinny asked, interrupting Rose's thoughts. "Of the murder charges? I'm assuming that's why they let you out."

"Oh—we don't know for sure yet. For the meantime, I guess, we're in the clear, but we may still have some work ahead of us." If only they had Sonja herself... The murderess was still in the wind, but Rose couldn't allow herself to think of that complication right now. One mess at a time.

"I _hate_ that woman," Tinny said bitterly.

Rose just sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You and me both, kid."

tbc


	4. Malachy

When Malachy Doyle found his youngest son at the empty bar below their office, drowning his sorrows with half a bottle of whiskey, it was no surprise. In fact, Malachy felt somewhat compelled to indulge himself—like father, like son—so it was the first place he checked. Jake didn't even turn around when Malachy entered the room; he already knew who had come looking for him.

"Hello Skipper, so they finally sprung ya, eh?" Jake slurred, raising the half-empty bottle.

"You're drunk," Malachy said. It was not a question.

"Not nearly s'much as I'd like to be." Jake poured himself another glass. "But I'm working on it."

Malachy frowned and crossed the room in three strides, snatching the bottle out of Jake's hands. Obstinately, Jake reached behind the bar for another one, fumbling until his hands found purchase but Malachy blocked that one too. "You should be ashamed of yourself," Malachy said as Jake spun the stool around to avoid his father's scrutinizing gaze. "Getting sloshed alone up here while that boy is fighting for his life."

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Malachy just frowned, the anger rising. "Do y'think I don't know what you're doing, boy? Y'think I can't _possibly_ grasp what you're feeling? _I_ know what's going through your head. You're blaming yourself for all this, tryin' to think 'What did I do wrong?' or 'Could I have prevented this?' And it all comes back to guilt."

"Please," Jake rolled his eyes. "Do tell me more, Dr. Phil."

Malachy sidestepped the snide remark. "And has it not perhaps occurred to you that I feel the exact same way? That I keep trying to think how _I_ could have prevented this?" Jake paused, the glass midway to his lips. "Sonja was _my_ protege, _my _friend. I've replayed this whole godforsaken mess over and over in my head since it began, trying to determine what I could've done differently." Malachy paused to let the statement sink in. "But you know what? It _doesn't matter_, son. You can't just sit here and wallow in 'what ifs' and 'why fors' because it's over, it's done, and it doesn't do anyone a bit of good to sit around pitying yourself."

The P.I. set the shot glass down on the bar and turned to face his father. "You weren't there, dad. I reached for the gun, we struggled, it went off... I knew—in the _back_ of my mind, I _knew_—that something had gone wrong there but in that moment, all I cared about was how pissed off I was at _her_ for... for blowing up my car. Can you believe that? I was pissed off about a _car_ while Des is—while he's—" Jake exhaled, dropping his head to his hands.

"It was an accident, son. Nothing more than wrong place, wrong time," Malachy assured him. "You can't go on blaming yerself like this."

"That's funny, comin' from you. You're always blaming me for some thing or another."

It was true that of all his brood, Malachy was hardest on Jake, but that was only because Jake had the most potential. Malachy would never tell him that, of course, but it was true nonetheless. Lots of potential in that boy, but not enough focus. Malachy's weapon of choice was degridation and derision, but maybe he'd been _too_ hard on him all along. Maybe Jake needed a soft hand every now and then... "You're not a screwup, Jake. Yer a good boy. You did everything you could here; sometimes you just get dealt a losing hand."

Jake picked his head up and his gaze met briefly with his father's. This level of sincerity was unfamiliar to him, and starting to make him uncomfortable. As in past moments of sincerity, Jake's first instinct was to change the subject. "Speaking of losing hands," he looked away, the slightest quiver in his voice betraying the aloof persona he traditionally projected. "How is Des?"

"He made it through. Tinny and Rose are with him now, but I'm sure he'd like to see you there when he wakes up..."

"Dad, I—" Jake shook his head. "I don't know if I can face that yet..."

"So you figure on getting drunk off your arse instead? Great idea."

"Am I interrupting something?" Both Doyles swiveled their heads towards the third person in the room, standing by the front door where she'd slipped in unnoticed at some point during their conversation. Sonja stared down the father and son icily, hands at her sides. "Sorry, it looked like you two were having a moment. Shall I come back?"

It was a testament to Jake's anger that he instantly sobered long enough to leap from the stool and whip out the gun he'd been holding onto without stumbling. "Sonja," he spat, keeping the gun trained on the blonde as he made his way towards her slowly.

"What are y'doing here, Sonja?" Malachy asked, his voice darker than Jake had ever heard it. He joined his son, searching Sonja for weapons while Jake kept an eye on her, but found none. "What in God's name made you think it'd be a good idea to come back here _now_?"

"Such hostility," Sonja admonished. "Coming from you, Mal, that's a bit uncharacteristic." She eyed Jake, whose eyes and gun never left her line of sight. "As is that, I'm assuming." she said, nodding to the gun. "You ever shoot someone before, Jake? I mean, besides your little friend."

Jake felt a flash of anger but emitted only a bitter laugh. "You know, my dad taught me never to hit a lady." He looked at his father, then lowered the gun and decked the unexpecting Sonja as hard as he could with his free hand, effectively knocking the self-satisfied smirk from her face. She stumbled back into a table, grabbing her stinging jaw. "Luckily, you're no lady."

The blonde wiped the blood from her split lip, righting herself. She cast a glance at Malachy, who simply shrugged. "Alright, I guess I had that one coming," Sonja said, wiping her hand on her pantleg.

"You have a lot worse coming to you, I guarantee it," Jake countered darkly.

"Save it, Jake," Sonja rolled her eyes. "It's bad enough I have to come here. Don't make me listen to your whining on top of it."

"He'll stop whining, if you stop being so damn melodramatic," Malachy snapped. "What are y'doing here anyway, Sonja? You never answered me." Malachy's former protege just looked at him, a bored sigh escaping her lips as her arms crossed before her. At the brief averting of her gaze, it all became suddenly clear to Malachy. "You need our help." After all that had happened, she still couldn't bring herself to say it outright. "That's why you're here, isn't it? You want us to help you." By the lack of response, both Doyles knew it to be true.

"Oh, you—you've _got_ to be kidding," Jake laughed bitterly. "After everything you've done to my family? You actually have the guts to come back here with your hands open?"

"Nothing's changed, Doyle. I still need the money. I was going to leave for the mainland, find another way, but you've got every officer out looking for me now. I can't get off this damn island."

"The gold is gone, Sonja. We gave it all back," Malachy told her. "I don't know what to tell ya. It's time to turn yerself in... Time to take responsibility for your actions." He looked at her carefully as his words sank in. The cracks beneath the surface were starting to show in her expression. "What happened to you, Sonja? How did you get this way? I remember that eager young girl I trained... You were good. Now what's happened to ya? Drugs, gambling, now _murder_? You've come a long way."

"It's _not_ that simple, Malachy!" Sonja said earnestly then sighed. "I lied to you before... I did need the money... but it wasn't for me. I have a ... a younger brother, Mikey. He's a good person, but he has a problem. He got in deep with his bookie, and called me for help but before I could get to him, they took him. They were going to kill him but I told them _I _would get the money. I was supposed to have it to them by tomorrow, but you all effectively prevented that." Though she was crumbling before them at the admission, Sonja couldn't help the tint of bitterness to the last part.

Malachy remembered Mikey Sterling. Even twenty years ago Mikey had some insurmountable problems. Sonja was always stressing about her younger brother, though it was obvious to everyone else that Mikey was becoming a lost cause. Sonja always tried to be optimistic, but apparently the younger Sterling sibling never did pull his life together, and now Sonja had been dragged into his mess. "Who does he owe the money to?"

Sonja paused a moment, calculating whether it was necessary to reveal that info before evidently deciding it was. "Ian Massey."

Jake blinked. "Ian Massey? _The_ Ian Massey, the mafia guy from Quebec?" Massey and his associates were connected to a string of carjackings, drug deals and thefts spanning 15 years and had yet to do any serious time, due to suspected police corruption. The violent nature of his crimes had increased in recent years, leaving a few bodies in his wake—none of which had been properly connected back to the mobster as of yet. Massey was a dangerous guy, that much was for sure. Mikey Sterling couldn't have picked a worse person to owe money to.

"I _told_ you they were bad people, Doyle."

"So that's what this is all about, huh?" the P.I. asked, his voice rising an octave. "You created this whole mess to save some deadbeat from his own stupidity?"

"It's my _brother_, Jake!" Sonja shouted. "I do whatever I have to to protect my family, and he's the only family I have left!"

"What about MY family?!" Jake yelled. "Well?! Do they not matter, so long as _your_ family is safe? My family never did anything to deserve this. My dad and Rose could still go to jail. And my... Des—" Jake didn't know how to finish that sentence.

Sonja eyed him steadily. "I told you, that was an accident."

"An entirely avoidable one! You know, Sonja, I know something about bailing out your screw-up brother... but I managed not to kill anyone doing it."

"He's got a point, Sonja," Malachy said. "Why should we help you? What possible incentive would we have for not turning you in to the police right now?" Sonja may have been on an emotionally-fueled mission, but she was still a clever woman, and Malachy could sense there was something else she was not telling them, an ace up her sleeve. He only hoped it wasn't another hidden bomb...

"There's one more thing..." Sonja began, confirming Malachy's suspicions. "Massey's guy on the inside is the one who tipped me onto the gold bullion job. Massey set everything up from the get go. I think he had been waiting to do this job all along, he just couldn't find the right fall guy..." Malachy could already tell how it went: along came Sonja, desperate to save her brother from a debt. Massey offers to let it slide if she gets him a larger score. With no obvious connection between himself and Sonja, he could avoid all suspicion. "Well, as you know already, _that_ didn't work out. Massey found out I contacted you, Malachy, now the word is that he thinks the three of us are collaborating to keep the money and flip on him to the police."

Well, Malachy thought, he hadn't thought it possible but things actually managed to get worse. As if being wanted for two murders, spending several days on the lam, and almost losing a family member weren't enough, now Malachy and Jake had the mafia to contend with? When was it going to end? The mess Sonja Sterling had dragged his family into was suffocating them.

"He thinks we're working together to steal from him?" Jake said incomprehensively.

"He may or may not be coming here to kill all three of us before we can turn him in. For the record, I _never_ implied that we were working together. He made the assumption himself and I did damage control all morning to stop him from coming here but I can't do that without going to Quebec myself and you've effectively prevented me from doing _that_—"

"You can't seriously still be blaming us for this!" Jake wanted to pull his hair out at the insanity of it all. "You've literally sicced the mafia on us to clean up your mess. What are we gonna do when he comes here to collect? You do remember we don't have the gold anymore, right?"

The blonde woman shrugged. "Then I guess we'd better come up with some more quickly."

"Woman, who do you take us for?" Malachy shouted, obviously having expunged the last of his patience as well.

Before anything else could happen, a knock at the door interrupted them. They all exchanged a nervous look before Jake moved to answer it. After all, if it really was Massey's men coming to mow them all down, they wouldn't knock politely before entering, so it was probably safe. Malachy ushered Sonja into the next room to stay hidden. As she passed by him through the doorway he could only shake his head at her. "You should have come to us in the first place, Sonja. We might've been able to help then. It may be too late now..." He shut the door on her look of defeat.

Despite his self-assurance, Jake still peeked past the door before opening it and was not completely surprised to see Leslie waiting patiently. "Leslie," he said by way of greeting, the door only somewhat ajar to bar her from entering. "What are you doing here?"

"I stopped by the hospital to check on Des and got an earful from your niece... so I came here to check on you." She looked past Jake to glimpse Malachy standing at the bar in the background and her eyes began to darken with suspicion, rightfully gained in this instance and so many others where Jake was concerned. "Is there something goin' on, Jake?"

"No, nothing, I just needed some sleep, so I came back here. Dad was just coming to get me."

Leslie held back cautiously, still suspicious, which was fair since Jake was a terrible liar. "Are you sure there's not something else? Is someone else here with you?"

"No," Jake answered, maybe a little too quickly, so he added another, more deliberate, "No, I'm just... not handling this whole thing very well. I got a little drunk and dad just spent the last twenty minutes tearing me a new one, so if I seem a little... out of sorts, that's why." It was _kind of_ the truth, but Jake still felt the guilt eating at him for lying to Leslie. Sweet, sensible Leslie, who'd come all the way here just to make sure he was okay... Surely he was going to Hell for lying to her.

"Oh, okay then..." Leslie still looked unsure but seemed to accept this. "Are you sure you don't wanna talk about anything then? You can trust me, Jake... you know that right?"

_Oh Leslie, you're killing me!_ Jake thought, exasperated. How often was he going to turn her away at his doorstep when she was at her most vulnerable? How often was he going to lie?

"Now is _really_ not a good time, Leslie," Jake forced himself to reply, and he slowly swung the door shut on her concerned look, resting his back against it when the latch fell into place. Three inches of wood paneling combined with three years of bad timing were all that separated him from the only thing he wanted, but he just couldn't bring himself to cross those lines. Malachy met his gaze from across the room and both men picked up on the other's nonverbal cues. This was bigger than them, bigger, perhaps, than anything they'd ever dealth with. Sonja never asked for help and it was the cause of her downfall. Were the father and son going to do the same?

"We've got to tell her," Jake replied and Malachy nodded in agreement. Jake spun and ripped the door open, catching Leslie with one foot still on the bottom step. She turned as well, a glimmer of hope in her eyes she failed to hide soon enough. "Leslie, wait, I think there's something we need your help with."

tbc


	5. Tinny (2)

Tinny sat quietly in the uncomfortable chair, listening to the sounds of the machines and the slight hum of activity outside. After the first few hours, Des had been moved out of recovery and was now in a private room, though he had a roommate, an older man who had been asleep since they got here, the curtain pulled shut around him.

A short while ago, Rose had stood up and asked Tinny if she would go with her to get something to eat, maybe stretch her legs, but Tinny had declined, not wanting to leave the room. "What if no one's here and he wakes up?"

Rose had looked at her sympathetically and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. This type of affection should probably be making Tinny more uncomfortable but for some reason, it wasn't. "I'll go get us something to eat, okay, dear?" And she'd gone, leaving Tinny alone to her thoughts, which were largely discomforting. At least with Rose around, Tinny had someone to talk to in case she started to think too much about Kevin Crocker or her mom or Sonja Sterling. Now her only companion was unconscious; she wished Rose would hurry.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait in silence for long. A slight knock at the door roused Tinny and she looked up to see Chandra, in her lab coat and looking far more tired and worn than Tinny ever remembered seeing her when she'd been with Des. "Hi Tinny," Chandra said with a tinge of sadness. "One of the nurses told me what was happening but I had to come see him for myself." She stood over Des's bed and looked down, reaching out to stroke his arm softly with the back of her fingers.

"They said he would be alright, but—he still hasn't woken up..." Even while she said it, Tinny knew it sounded silly and perhaps a bit childish. It was directly contrary to the image she'd always tried to project in front of the older girl; Tinny _hated_ being treated like a child, but thankfully Chandra didn't make her feel bad about it.

"He'll be alright. I saw his medical file the last time he was here; sounds like he's made it through a lot already." She looked sideways at Tinny and gave her a small smile. "And what about you? Are you doing alright?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," Tinny said nervously. Of _course_ Chandra had to be classy like that and worry about _her_. "Anyway, Rose went to get us some lunch... or is it dinner time now?" The med student laughed and Tinny allowed a brief smile herself. She pulled the second chair towards the bed. "Did you want to sit with me, for a little while?"

"I'd like that, thank you." Chandra took the seat and there was an awkward pause for a few seconds before she spoke again. "How did this happen anyway? I saw your grandfather on the news the other day. They said he was wanted for murder; is this connected?"

Tinny nodded. "Poppy didn't murder anyone though. It was some woman he used to work with. She came to him for help then framed him. She shot Des too, but uncle Jake says it was an accident. I think he's out there looking for her still, but he should be _here_." Tears sprung to her eyes. "Des would want him to be here."

"You're worried about him," Chandra said kindly.

"Des? Of _course_ I'm worried about him,"

"About your uncle too. You want him to come home safe. I see it every day—families, in crisis mode, and all they want is to have all their loved ones surrounding them, safe and sound and whole, instead of ... _out there, _God knows where. It's only natural." Chandra looked out the window wistfully.

"Sounds like you're speaking from personal experience," Tinny said intuitively.

"I suppose I am. I have an older brother who's a Marine, and my parents live back home in Michigan still and I worry about them constantly. I know my brother loves his job but every time he's gone I just want him back home with me, where I _know_ he's safe."

"I'm sorry," the younger girl answered sincerely. "That must be really hard."

"It can be..." Chandra paused a moment. "Your uncle really cares about Des. If he's not here, I'm sure he has a good reason to be. You should have seen him and your grandfather the first time they brought Des in—the day we met. They were pretty pissed, and quite protective. It was sweet." She grinned as she recalled the memory. "Jake made sure I had Des's number before we discharged him."

Tinny felt a tinge of jealousy, but didn't know why she should feel that way. It's not as if she and Des were dating. Of course Jake would want him to get some action, especially if it _wasn't_ with Tinny. Anyway, none of that mattered because Des and Chandra weren't together anymore. Tinny was sure she had something to do with that. "Chandra," she began hesitantly. "I'm sorry, if something I did came between the two of you. I never meant to ruin what you two had going on... I only want Des to be happy."

The med student reached out and patted Tinny on the hand. "I know you do, and it's okay. I knew it wasn't going to work out with Des the moment I met you. He really cares about you, you know."

Tinny knew, and no matter how she tried to deny it, the feelings were reciprocated. She should have told him. She almost lost her chance forever... "I don't know where to even begin."

A rustling noise redirected Chandra's attention to the injured boy, who was slowly but surely waking up, though his eyes were still shut. "Well you better think of something quick," Chandra told Tinny, standing to check on him. "I'm going to get his doctor," she told Tinny. "Stay with him."

Chandra left the room in a hurry but Tinny couldn't take her eyes off Des, willing him to open his eyes. She took his hand again, whispering to him encouragingly. Finally he opened his eyes, scanning his surroundings before coming to rest on Tinny. "Where am I? Am I not dead?"

Tinny blinked through tears, laughing despite herself. "No, Des, you're not dead. Though once again, you certainly gave it your best shot." Des tried to sit up but she pushed him back down gently. "Hold still; you got _shot_, stupid. You need to take it easy." Des obeyed and leaned back, grimacing and grabbing his stomach at the pain the movement caused him. "Does it hurt a lot?" she asked him.

"No, no way," Des said after a second.

"Liar," Tinny sniffed.

Des studied her carefully and said, "Your face is red and puffy. You've been crying. Tinny, why are you crying? Did Jake get hurt? Did Sonja kill him? Are Mal and Rose okay? _Why are you crying?!_"

"Shut up, everyone's fine. I was crying about YOU, Des. I'm happy you're awake."

"Oh," Des let this sink in. "You were sad about me?"

"YES, Des."

"Oh. Is Jake?"

Tinny just sighed. She didn't have an answer for that. Thankfully, the doctors, along with Chandra and Rose, returned to the room before she had to come up with a convincing lie.

tbc


	6. Jake (2)

Sorry for the delay, guys! It's been a busy week and I got caught up on editing this chapter more than a few times. One more update after this one and then we're through!

* * *

"If anything looks sketchy, and I mean _anything_, then I want you to stop and call us out immediately. Don't try to be a hero or anything," Leslie told Jake as she fitted him with a listening device. "I'll be _right _outside that door the whole time."

"I got it, Leslie," Jake said, for the third time. "I'm done trying to handle this thing on my own. My hand to God." He raised one hand to accentuate this statement but the blonde woman still looked skeptical. Jake couldn't blame her, given how often he'd lied to her in the past, but this time, he really was serious. At the bar, after he'd invited her inside and brought her up to speed about Sonja Sterling, Leslie had come up with the plan to bring down Massey and get them all out of this mess. The rest of the police force had to be involved, of course, which Sonja had _not_ been pleased about, but she had begun to accept that she was no longer in charge of this situation, and if she wanted her brother back alive, she'd have to comply. So Sonja had contacted Massey and somehow not only managed to dissuade him from vengeance, but convinced him to meet them in Newfoundland to collect the take himself. Jake and Malachy had to be present as well for the story Sonja had concocted to play out. As soon as they had Massey, Jake would say the phrase, "So, this makes us square then?" and Leslie and the rest of the officers waiting outside the empty warehouse would storm in and take over. Ideally the exchange of Mikey Sterling and the money would happen first.

Jake watched the top of Leslie's head as she fussed with the microphone pinned beneath his shirt, adjusting so it would be out of sight. The familiar smell of her favorite shampoo wafted beneath Jake's nose and he breathed her in to steady his nerves. She studiously avoided his scrutinizing gaze. "Leslie, I—" Jake hesitated, glancing around to make sure they were alone. Malachy and Sonja were outside with the rest of the officers. Nobody paid the pair any mind. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

She glanced up quick, then back down. "It better not be in advance for somethin' stupid you're gonna try later."

"No—" Jake answered quickly. "Well, I hope not. Stupid and I kind of go hand in hand. What can I say?" At her reproachful look, Jake felt shamed. "I'm serious, though. I've been thinking a lot about this whole mess, and it got me to thinking about all the other messes I've gotten into, especially the ones you've had to clean up after, and I sort of realized... the reason you're always angry with me, the reason you gotta bust my balls every week? It's because I don't trust you, isn't it? I don't trust you to do your own job, I always gotta try and fix it myself, and I just make it worse, don't I?"

"Not every time..." Leslie muttered, still avoiding his gaze.

"No, I do. I always make it worse before I make it better. Maybe if I just came to you from the start, if I didn't try to go it alone every time, things would be better for me... Things would be better with us." Leslie stopped fussing with the bug, still looking away as she contemplated his words. "So I'm sorry, Leslie, you deserve more respect than I've ever given you. And I just thought you should know that."

The constable looked up slowly, her baleful, round eyes catching his. "And he _finally_ gets it," she murmurs to herself but really to him and he feels ashamed all over again because in his head he adds, _And all it took was for someone _else_ to pay the price, naturally_...

"I'm not exactly the fastest learner," Jake concedes. "Just ask my dad what an arse I am. He'll gladly regale you."

"You two just be careful in there. We don't know what kind of firepower to expect. And I still don't trust Sonja not to have something up her sleeve."  
"Me neither."

When all the preparations had been made, Jake, Malachy and Sonja drove together to the warehouse to wait for Massey. Sonja carried the briefcase with the money they were to use in the exchange and she stood off to the side with it now, staring ahead at dead air. She'd been sulky and quiet since law enforcement had been brought into the plan, but insisted that nothing else mattered so long as Mikey was saved. She had sullenly confessed to the murders that Malachy had taken the heat for, at least, so no matter which way this setup today went, Rose and Malachy were absolved.

Jake shook his hands and bounced a little to relieve some of his pent up tension, wondering what was taking Massey so long, though it had only been fifteen minutes of standing there.

"Don't look so nervous, Doyle. They're gonna know what's up the moment they walk in here if you keep flailing around like that."

"You just worry about your part and I'll worry about mine, okay?" It was going to be satisfying to see her go down when this was all over.

The sound of a couple vehicles pulling up outside the warehouse reached their ears and the trio went into alert mode, facing the side door as it swung open and four men walked in, Massey, flanked by two intimidating looking men with guns, while a third, plump man wearing sunglasses waited by the closed door, arms folded. The Doyles and Sonja weren't carrying themselves, as they'd been instructed by Massey not to, under the threat of lethal penalty, but it left them all feeling vulnerable; there was nothing stopping Massey from murdering them all and taking the money besides his good word.

The tallest and broadest of the three men searched them upon entry to make sure they'd held up their end of the bargain. At his nod of approval, Massey finally spoke. "You know, Sonja, I'm getting real sick of your shit. Please tell me that's my money in there or I'm ending this right now and flying off this fuckin' island."

"The money's all here," Sonja spoke, presenting the briefcase's contents. "Just like I said it'd be. But I want to see my brother first."

Massey nodded and the plump, shades-wearing gunman pushed the door open. A fourth gunman entered, towing a bruised and bloody Mikey Sterling. Jake could see that Sonja tried to hold herself back from reacting but she was unsuccessful. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!" she shouted angrily.

Massey looked at her sideways. "After all this little shit has put me through, you should just be happy I'm letting you both live. And speaking of shenanigans," he gestured to the briefcase in Sonja's hands. "That doesn't look like the gold I told you to get to me."

"The gold was too hot. I couldn't get it off the island. That's why I had these two help me move it." Sonja waved at Jake and Malachy. "What are you complaining about anyway, Massey. I just saved you a step."

Massey's eyes narrowed. "And who are these two assholes anyway? I don't know them. I don't trust them."

"_I _trust them," Sonja answered. "Do you really think I would put my brother's life in the hands of someone I didn't trust?" To the untrained ear, Sonja's reasoning sounded legitimate, but Jake could hear the strain, and he fought the urge to feel guilty. He hadn't done anything wrong, Jake reminded himself. It was Sonja who got herself into this mess, not the Doyles.

"What's your name?" Massey looked to Jake first, then his father.

"John Burney, this here's my dad, Mike. We... kinda run things around these parts."

"I've never heard of you."

Jake grinned and shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, that's kinda the point."

The older man scrutinized Jake a moment longer before waving to Sonja. "Bring it over." The blonde woman eyed her brother then the other four gunmen in the room before tentatively walking over to Massey. She warily handed the briefcase off to the associate to his left then took a step back, her gaze returning to her silent, quivering brother, his hands bound before him with a zip tie. The briefcase was opened and Massey inspected the money then nodded and it was closed again. He turned back to Sonja and the Doyles and stared silently, hands folded over his crisp, expensive suit.

"It's all there," Sonja began. "Hand over my brother."

"Yeah, I'm still not sure I trust you, Sonja." Massey said simply.

"What are you talking about? I did what you asked!" The cracks were beginning to show in Sonja Sterling's face. "All of it... I did... _anything_ to get my brother back. _Anything_. You have no idea, Massey."

Jake didn't like the way this was all going. They were outnumbered and worse, outgunned. It was _definitely_ time to bring in the reinforcements. "She's right. You got your money, Massey. So that makes us square then, right? We're even?" He spoke the buzz line as loudly as he could as he inched slowly in the direction of the nearest gunman. He could see Massey's distrust building; this situation was going downhill fast. Before any of them could react, Massey pulled his own gun out of its holster, turned, and shot Mikey Sterling in the stomach. The man crumbled instantly.

"NO!" Sonja shouted, her voice ragged. She moved towards her brother but Massey grabbed her and pinned her to him like a human shield as suddenly the warehouse erupted in gunfire.

Jake lunged for the gunman nearest him. The shorter man was caught off guard by the commotion and Jake was able to disarm him more easily than he thought, knocking the man out with one punch and snagging his gun. Quickly he dove behind a crate for what little cover it would offer and peeked out to see if he could catch sight of his father. Malachy was backed into a corner by another of the gunmen who was just about to pull the trigger when a shot rang out from above and the assailant went down. Jake looked up and saw none other than Leslie with the smoking gun. He shot her a look of unspoken gratitude then ducked back behind the crate when a bullet whizzed by his ear.

It sounded as though the battle was happening outside the warehouse as well. Jake only hoped they had the upper hand. He chanced another look at the floor but instantly regretted it when Massey, still hiding behind his hostage, aimed past her and fired at him. This time he wasn't quick enough and the bullet streaked past, carving a deep path through his bicep. Jake collapsed against the crate again, grabbing his stinging shoulder and cursing under his breath.

"Jake! You alright?!" he heard his father call out.

"Yeah," Jake yelled through clenched teeth. He sat, clinging to the gun a few moments longer until the shooting finally died down.

"Is that your real name then?" Jake heard Massey call out when the commotion had cleared. "Jake? Well, why don't you come out now Jake?"

"Uh, no?" Jake chanced.

"I really think you want to come out now, Jake." Cautiously, Jake rose from his position, gun at the ready and ignoring the pain radiating from his wound but he was given pause by the scene before him. Massey was the only one left standing, but he still had Sonja and had backed himself up into a corner where none of the police could reach him. Mal stood off to the left, unharmed, but Massey had his gun trained him. Leslie and the other officers were all focused on Massey, but the criminal had the upper hand, and he was starting to realize this.

"Let's all stop and think for a moment here. I want all of them out and _then _we'll talk about what to do next." Massey looked up to indicate the officers on the upper floor who had taken out the rest of his men. Leslie hesitated, gun still at the ready. "NOW! Or I'll kill everyone down here!" Massey shouted and cautiously Leslie signaled to her men to leave. She exchanged a look with Jake before leaving the warehouse, her expression unreadable. They were alone again, Jake and Massey the only two left in the standoff with guns .

"Drop the gun," Massey ordered Jake.

"You drop the gun," Jake countered, his aim never wavering.

"You may have been lying about your name, but I'm willing to bet that's really your dad over there, isn't it?" Massey grinned devilishly. "Yeah, I can see the family resemblance. Now I'm sure you wouldn't want me to pop pops would you? I don't think so."

Jake was undaunted. "What's your plan anyway, Massey? Let's say you escape out that door, then what? This place is surrounded, you'll never make it out of here, even with a hostage."

"Why not? I can wait it out for some better insurance. I have all the time in the world, unlike Mikey there." Mikey Sterling was still alive, writhing on the floor in pain a few feet away from where Sonja and Massey stood. Sonja looked at him desperately then at Jake. "How much time do you think baby brother has left anyway, Sonja? Twenty minutes? Ten? I guess we'd better hope this whole thing is over as quickly as possible if you want him to live. And all that would happen a lot quicker if Jake here would DROP. HIS. GUN."

Jake never even liked guns. He avoided them at all costs and he wasn't a very good shot anyhow. There was no way he could take out Massey without hitting Sonja or risking Malachy getting shot unless he got lucky and luck was so rarely on his side.

"Daddy's clock is ticking, Jake. What's it gonna be? Are we gonna make a deal here?"

Jake's gaze locked onto Sonja's and the woman's eyes turned to steel. She gripped the arm that was wrapped around her, trapping her in place and set her lips in a tight line as the moment of understanding passed between them. "Do it," she commanded.

"You heard the lady, Jake."

Jake hesitated, wondering if he'd read her correctly. Could she really have meant...? Her brother's life _was_ on the line after all. Still, could he really pull the trigger?

"DO IT, JAKE," Sonja said louder, her gaze fierce. "Remember your promise to me? The one you made yesterday on the tarmac?" Jake did remember. He promised he would kill her for what happened to Des. There was no mistaking now what she was giving him permission to do. Sonja spoke once more, quiet but firm, "Do it."

Jake nodded, swallowed and took aim, firing directly at Sonja, the bullet went through her and into a shell-shocked Massey and both crumpled to the ground. Before he could react, Leslie was there, kicking Massey's gun aside before the criminal could regain his senses. Jake didn't even know she had been there but of course she would never have left him to do it on his own. She shot him a look of concern as he lowered the gun, but nothing needed to be spoken between them before she and the other officers rushed in to apprehend Massey and haul him away. Jake knew Malachy was staring at him, but he didn't return the gaze, lowering the gun and tossing it away from him dejectedly then trudged over to where Sonja lay on her back.

He knelt beside the woman, looking down onto her pained face. His words failed him. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he wasn't sure that he was. He _had_ promised this, after all. And at the time, he'd meant it. Sonja saved him from having to muster a response. "Thank you," she said quietly, and turned her head to glance at her brother as the paramedics finally rushed into the room to attend to the injured. "Make sure it's not for nothing," she told him and closed her eyes and that was it. Jake sat a moment before the paramedics pushed him aside but he knew there was nothing they could do. He stumbled away from the chaos until a warm hand reached out to stop him. Jake looked up to meet his father's gaze.

"Hold steady, b'y. Let the paramedics have a look at ya." Malachy wordlessly directed his son to sit down on a bench and flagged down a paramedic to look at his arm. Across the room, Mikey Sterling was being lifted onto a stretcher and rushed from the room. Apparently he would survive this after all; Sonja was not so lucky.

"She wanted me to," Jake murmured dazedly. "She just wanted to save her brother."

Malachy reached out to put his hand on his son's shoulder and held it there comfortingly while both men looked on. "I know."

tbc


	7. Des

It was early morning when Des awoke, limbs stiff and vision blurry. He rubbed his eyes to clear them but the fog in his brain still hadn't lifted. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Hospital. Shot. Sonja. Jake. Des frowned at the last part once his brain finally caught up to current events. The youngest Doyle still hadn't been by his room to visit. Late last night, Malachy came back to tell him and Tinny and Rose that everyone was fine and the whole ordeal was over. He'd been acting kinda funny when he said it, though, and Rose could tell something was up, which in turn told Des and Tinny something was up, but Mal would say nothing more on the subject. It wasn't until later, when Mal took the ladies home for the night so Des could get some rest and Tinny texted him that he found out that Sonja Sterling was dead. And Jake had been the one to kill her.

Dead. _Killed_. By Jake. Jake who hated guns, Jake who'd never killed anyone before, killed the woman who had shot him. What did it all mean? Was he in jail now? Is that why he hadn't come by still? It took Des awhile to fully process this shocker and he was still having trouble wrapping his brain around it by the time he'd finally succumbed to sleep.

It was the first thing he thought about upon waking too, which is why the last thing he was expecting to see when he turned his head was a slumbering Jake Doyle, propped up in a plastic chair and lightly snoring at his bedside. He was leaning awkwardly on one arm, as the other was encased in a bright blue sling, and the position looked anything but comfortable. Des pushed himself upright in the bed, fighting the dizziness that hung over him, and the movement roused Jake.

"Hey," Des said in a small voice when Jake noticed he was awake.

"Hey yourself," Jake replied in a gravelly voice, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you—"

"No, it's fine. It's not really an ideal sleeping position anyhow," Jake smiled, craning his neck to work out the kinks. "I'm probably gonna feel this one later."

"Are you okay?" He pointed to Jake's arm.

"This?" Jake looked at the sling and gave a half shrug. "This is nothing. Really. Just a scratch." He pulled the sling off and tossed it aside, to prove it was nothing Des needed to worry about, and gave him a wry smile. "What about you? How're you feelin' today?"

"Oh, I'm okay..." Des trailed off. In truth, he felt miserable. Yesterday, they'd had him so doped up on painkillers he hadn't been able to feel much of anything besides euphoria and confusion but today he was feeling it. He thought about calling the nurse for assistance but he was afraid it might be Doris again, the severe older woman who had tended to him yesterday. Doris was a _horrid_ woman, hellbent on bringing Des nothing but pain and misery. She wouldn't give him a moment's rest all day and to top it off, she confiscated the Mexican food Tinny had snuck in for him last night. She had to be stopped.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Jake called Des on his lie and reached for the button that summoned the Beast.

"No, no, don't!" Des said, but too late. "Oh, now you've done it." He leaned back against the pillow, clutching his stomach. At Jake's questioning look, he replied, "Doris. She's a _monster_, Jake, and now you've summoned her."

"Are you telling lies about me again?" A woman's voice sounded from the doorway, causing both men to jump.

"How did you get here so fast?!" Des asked as Doris walked around to the other side of the bed without skipping a beat.

The nurse reached up to replace his empty saline bag. "I have a sixth sense that tells me when my patients are going to give me trouble before they do it. And you, Mr. Courtney, are going to be trouble."

"See what I mean?" Des said aside to Jake, but loud enough that it didn't go unnoticed by Doris. "She's _horrible_."

"What's this?" Doris picked up the discarded sling and looked expectantly at Jake. "Shouldn't this be on your person, Mr. Doyle?"

"Oh, no, I—I feel much better now," Jake replied timidly. Either Des's fear was contagious or Doris had a way about her that immediately evoked fear in others. He was leaning towards the latter. The stern nurse eyed him suspiciously, but let it slide and continued her duties around the room.

"Have you been here long?" Des asked Jake, changing the subject. He wanted to ask about Sonja, to hear it from Jake himself, but he couldn't bring himself to do that just yet.

"Ah, no, just like half an hour or so... I was thinking of maybe getting some breakfast. You want me to grab you something?"

"Ooh, I'd love—"

"NO OUTSIDE FOOD," Doris answered instead. "We've been over this, Mr. Courtney. I'll let you know when it's alright." She came over to the bed and helped Des sit up straight while she fluffed his pillow and as she helped him back down she leaned low and whispered. "He's lying. Been here all night and wouldn't leave no matter how many times we told him to." She gave the young man the faintest hint of a smile then turned and left the room, telling him to use the call button if he needed anything. "And don't go exciting my patient, Mr. Doyle. If I hear you are causing trouble, I will not hesitate to throw your ass out, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jake shuddered and exchanged a knowing look with Des then settled back into the uncomfortable chair. There was a moment of silence before Jake ventured, "Listen, Des—I just want you to know that I'm really sorry for what happened. All of it. This never would have gone so far if I had just gotten help instead of trying to fix everything on my own. I got stubborn, and you got hurt, and that's not fair." His eyes took on a faraway look briefly, and Des wondered if he was thinking about Sonja and the life he might have avoided taking if this had all gone differently, but then his vision returned to the present. "So, again, I'm sorry."

"Ohhh Jake, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say something sincere to me, but now that you are, to be honest, it's kinda freaking me out, man," Des panicked. "Tinny's being really nice to me too and, like, I don't know what to do with that..."

Jake grinned. "You're on your own there, buddy."

Des looked down at his stomach. "At least I'll get like a wicked scar out of this. Ladies dig that still, right Jake?"

"Absolutely. If you want, I'll tell girls that you pushed me out of the line of fire too."

The boy's eyes went wide. "Would you really do that?"

"I would."

"Yeah, it probably sounds better than telling them you accidentally shot me," Des joked a moment later.

Jake just stared, mouth and eyes agape, fumbling for a response. "I—uh—wait—" Des was amused; he'd never left Jake Doyle dumbstruck before. Obviously he'd struck a bit of a nerve.

"_Kidding_, I'm only kidding," he smiled then yawned, still a bit tired from his restless, interrupted sleep the night before.

He settled back down into the sheets and Jake, noticing Des's losing battle with consciousness, said, "Maybe I should, uh, take off and let you get some rest. I could probably use a few hours myself."

"Jake, wait—" Des put out an arm to stop Jake as he rose from the chair. Des felt stupid for even saying it but he couldn't stop the words from coming out, "Will you stay? Please, just a little while longer, till I fall asleep?"

Jake looked down at the kid, surprised but gentle. "Yeah, of course I'll stick around." He patted him on the shoulder then resumed his spot in the chair. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Thanks for reading, everyone! It was a blast writing this fic, although a bit frustrating near the end. Please review and let me know what you think; I crave constructive criticism!

I haven't the foggiest idea what they've got planned for Sonja on the show but I look forward to finding out in January. I may write a small companion piece/sequel to this story if I get my shit together in December. This damnable plot bunny just won't leave me alone!


End file.
